Clueless
by Sauro
Summary: As Paul Almond sets off on his pokémon journey, Kanto and the wider Pokémon world are beset by a series of attacks and crises that transform the world into an increasingly restrictive and authoritarian place. Paul needs to learn to survive in a world that no longer wants, or even tolerates, pokémon training.
1. Introduction

Standard disclaimer:

I do not own Pokémon. Pokémon belongs to Nintendo and Game Freak. I do not profit from this fanfic in any way.

* * *

**Author's note:**

This is my very first fanfic. This is a humble attempt by yours truly to write something that hopefully I would've liked to have read had I not been the one who wrote it.

I've also moulded the Pokémon world a bit to my convenience. Trainers here start their Pokémon journeys at the age of 18.

As this is my first story and all, criticism of all sorts is greatly appreciated, as long as it's constructive. I'm not afraid of editing things or even going back and ripping whole sections out if it really sucks that much.

Finally, thanks a lot for reading. :)

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**-Introduction-**

The plans for Paul Almond's traditional coming-of-age pokémon journey were in full steam. A rite of passage for a lot of people who just turned 18, as well as the childhood dream of anyone fond of any sport involving pokémon, the journey was supposed to teach self-reliance, bonding, and whatnot.

Getting one's Trainer Licence was a very special moment for most 18 year olds. Although not every single person went off in a pokémon journey (some went to university and others simply travelled around the world), almost every single person acquired a pokémon as soon as they could. After all, the prospect of a life long friend and partner was a difficult thing to resist. So almost every school in Hoenn dedicated at least 1 hour to teaching students all about pokémon, with the final aim of enabling them to get their Trainer's Licence.

The trouble was, that the circumstances weren't exactly in Paul's favour.

An economic crisis of sort was underway since a few years ago, with most of the world's major powers involved in trying to fix it some way. Increased poverty, criminality... some of the more sensationalist news outlets were pretty much equating it with the end of the world and all people held dear. Protests all around the world didn't quite help things.

While Hoenn wasn't a major power, it was also affected by this famous 'crisis'. Rumours abounded that the various routes that criscrossed Hoenn were even becoming dangerous.

Of course, the word 'dangerous' computes perfectly fine in the complex brain of the wild Mum, but the word 'rumour' doesn't quite compute as well, so Paul had to reassure his mother, get a Pokégear (along with other journey equipment) and do other inhuman feats in order to leave behind a somewhat worried but still willing Mum once he set off for the wild.

Still, he already had his training licence, he had an appointment to pick up his new starter pokémon at the Petalburg Pokémon Centre in three days (and he found himself staying up, late at night, googling his choices, which were the typical Treecko, Mudkip, and Torchic, while analysing his options).

So, protests and bank runs be damned. What could _possibly_ go wrong?


	2. Of Lessons Learnt

**Standard disclaimer:**

I do not own Pokémon. Pokémon belongs to Nintendo and Game Freak. I do not profit from this fanfic in any way.

* * *

**-Chapter 1: Of Lessons Learnt**

Two weeks later, Paul's romantic ideas about his pokémon journey were quickly evaporating. He was _still_ stuck inside Petalburg Woods, after a quick detour to Route 102 to capture himself a Ralts. Although most Petalburgers, including himself, had journeyed through Petalburg Woods at one point in their lives, he had most certainly never walked all the way to Rustboro through the wood path.

Hoenn had an elaborate transport system set up for the populace. The Hoenn Road System enabled people with cars to get around through the region with little hassle. Hoenn Rail fulfilled a similar function for people to get along using trains. And then there was the Route system... a bunch of paths designated for trainers, hikers, and anyone with an interest in gambolling around in the wild. The Route system had a set 'level threshold' intended to gauge the difficulty level of the route and the strength of the wild pokémon that frequented it. Rangers constantly patrolled the routes. After all, the purpose of a pokémon journey was not to get yourself killed.

The final way of getting around was the true wilderness. Only seasoned veterans who could either avoid the wild pokémon or strong trainers who could battle them ventured into the wilderness. It was likely that no one would help you if you got yourself in trouble _there_.

Paul had decided to trod along using the route system instead of the train system. Not only was it cheaper (in fact, if you did well in battles, it was even profitable), but it let your pokémon get strong faster, and it was considered the 'true' way of exploring Hoenn in a pokémon journey.

Mudkip looked at Paul inquisitively. Paul was sure Mudkip was quickly growing disillusioned with his trainer. The two weeks, after all, had been abysmal, with Paul quickly running out of money from lost battles. They were also quickly running out of antidotes and potions, and supplies in general. Paul, however, was convinced that they had long gone past the point of no return, and therefore, there was no turning back. _And it's not like he was completely ignorant_. He had taken orienteering and geography back at his training lessons in Petalburg High. He was sure they were on the right track. Well, almost sure. He certainly couldn't afford to run out of supplies. It would be downright humiliating to ask a ranger for help on how to get out.

Paul returned Mudkip. He couldn't stand his 'you don't know shit' look anymore, and he sighed as the red beam of light whisked the creature away. He should've taken the bloody train. Better yet, he shouldn't have gone on this stupid journey. His three pokémon didn't remotely like him, never mind respect him. He was sick of eating boiled rice breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He was dirty. Putting up the tent was a hassle. His feet hurt from all the walking. The pokémon were ungrateful to him. He was cold at night. He was bruised and scraped all over. And he was hungry for a real meal. Some nice fish & chips, followed by some minestrone soup? Lovely. Boiled rice, however, was all he had. He could add some beans to add flavour and sustenance to his 'meal', but even with that it would not be remotely appetising. However, he _was_ hungry, so he plopped down on a nearby clearing and got to work on setting up camp for the night.

A few hours later, Paul had set up camp and was awaiting his holy concoction of beans and rice. He hadn't taken his pokémon out yet, as he wasn't in the mood to deal with their 'yet another day of pokéfood and sleeping in the cold' attitude, and he was generally in a foul mood due to his own fantastic dinner prospects. Immersed in his dark thoughts, he did not notice a certain teenager approach his camp and sit down close by.

"Hello, there. You're all right?" asked the blond haired boy.

Paul looked up. _Great_, some trainer looking for a battle. Or food. Not that the food was any good, but he absolutely hated being used. This guy would probably have his battle and/or food and leave him there to rot.

"I'm not looking for a battle mate, sorry", Paul replied, rather curtly.

The boy didn't look remotely taken aback. "Well, I wasn't looking for a battle either," he said, "but if you're looking to be left alone, that's fine too". The boy sniggered. "It just looks like you're in need of help, mate, sorry to break it to you. That food looks awful and _you_ look _really_ lost. But I'll be on my way!".

Paul groaned. He had a choice. He could stay quiet, with his pride intact, while potentially condemning himself to even more suffering. Or, he could admit defeat, swallow his ego, and ask this guy for help. He sighed.

"Alright, fine, I admit it. I need help".

The boy smiled. "That wasn't so hard, was it? I'm Dan."

"I'm Paul. What brings you to Petalburg Woods?"

"It's OBVIOUS, isn't it? Pokémon journey! Adventure! Glamour! Girls! And, of course, meeting new friends!" Dan said, winking. "After all, it's not EVERY DAY that you become a Pokémon trainer, right? I'm from Oldale. Small, smelly, boring place it is. But it's got a soul, y'know? You ever been there?"

"Only once," Paul replied, "went along with my father to see some pokémon festival, or something. It seemed like a nice place. Coming from Petalburg, I'm not sure if a place like Oldale could be boring. More of nature to explore, I guess?" he said, grimacing. "Being surrounded by skyscrapers and smelly people on the metro isn't quite as glamourous as you would expect. If _we_ wanted to see nature, _we_ had to hop into a car before we could see something remotely natural".

"Huh, I hadn't thought about that before. Anyways, sorry to state the obvious mate, but that soup thing you've got going on there looks absolutely awful!" Dan said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He had the most odd tendency to do the tiniest hops as he spoke, almost like he would soon blast off to Mars or something from the excitement. "Have you thought of... y'know... carrying _soup cans_ instead of just rice and beans? It makes the journey a whole lot easier!"

"Soup cans? And how the hell am I supposed to carry more than three day's supplies of cans in my backpack, may I ask?"

"Ummm, item capsules." Dan said, tilting his head in confusion.

"Item capsules. Right. What's that?". Paul felt just about ready to find the nearest stream and drown himself in it. Not only did he _not_ know what an item capsule was, but there was no need to eat rice and/or beans every single day! That was probably why his pokémon hated him. He was clueless.

"You... seriously don't know?" Dan burst out laughing. "I thought you city people were _cultured_, ha! Here I stumble upon young, innocent Paul, from Petalburg, who is cooking what seems to approximate rice-and-beans, all the while wearing a 'fuck this' expression on his face, me thinking he's just trying to tough it out or do the journey traditional-style, and what do I find out?" Dan seemed to be getting redder and redder from contained laughter. He looked just about ready to explode. "_Sophisticated_-_City-Kid Paul_ doesn't know about item capsules!" Dan collapsed on the floor, laughing.

"My... parents... they were never the outdoors type. They got their Pokémon, sure, just like everyone else, and trained them, but they kept to the city. They wouldn't know a thing about going on a journey. How come this isn't taught at school? This is elemental!" Paul's food was burning as he spoke. "School _really_ is useless!"

"They don't teach you because item capsules are expensive. The objective of training lessons is to teach you to _survive_ in the wild, not to teach you to be _comfortable_ in the wild. And, well, as sad as it may seem, you were surviving. If you call that surviving. Not that you look like an honour student, if I may say so. Even _I _could've concocted something better out of beans and rice. But, did you honestly think that someone hadn't figured out a way to transport stuff just as easily as pokémon? It's the same science, y'know!"

"I guess I just had better stuff to do that to ponder _that age-old question_ of how to transport two week's worth of soup cans across Petalburg Woods." Paul replied sarcastically.

"Well, no worries, because I've got plenty of soup cans! And other goodies! All in three, beautiful item capsules! And you can have some, too!"

Paul smiled at this. It was his first real smile in a while, too. The prospect of a nice, _proper_ meal was truly exciting. He could almost jump from joy! He tried to keep his cool, however. "Alright, that would be nice mate, cheers.", he said, while tending to his (burnt) 'stew'.

"That's settled then!" Dan said, throwing his backpack into the ground and pulling out an item capsule. He threw the capsule like a pokéball, and Paul watched as a neatly stacked pile of minestrone soup cans materialised from the light that emerged. "Hey, is it alright if I set up camp with you for tonight?" Paul nodded. The more the merrier. Dan then proceeded to throw a _second_ item capsule containing a semi-assembled tent, sleeping bag, and gas stove. He pinned the tent down to the ground and proceeded to light the gas stove. He poured two cans of minestrone soup into a pot, and stirred the contents merrily. That was the last straw. The moment he got to Rustboro, Paul was ditching his large, heavy pack into his PC's item storage and he would carrying his stuff in as many item capsules as would fit into a backpack.

As the sun went down, and the local taillow's cawing was replaced by the sounds of the night, the pair ate their soups in silence. In Dan's case, he was simply wolfing down can after can of minestrone, and in Paul's case, he was simply deep in thought. Maybe it was time for some training? Unless he and his pokémon got stronger, he'd keep losing battles.

Paul threw his three pokéballs into the air. "Alright, Taillow, Ralts, Mudkip! Time to work!". His three pokémon emerged from the light, tilting their heads in confusion. "Guys," Paul said, pacing. "Let's face it. We _suck_. Big time." Mudkip tilted his head upwards, dismissing the idea. Paul quickly got the message. "Nope, yes, we _all_ suck, no matter what _you_ think. I've sucked as a trainer, you've sucked in battle. That last battle against that bug catcher, you fainted in two moves." Paul stopped pacing and looked at Mudkip directly in the eyes. "If you call that strength, then that bug catcher was invincible. And we all know that in reality bug catchers are losers. Which, unfortunately, makes us bigger losers!"

Dan was watching amusedly, his minestrone soup forgotten. He could see what Paul was trying to accomplish. He wasn't sure if it would work, though. Paul seemed to have a lot to learn. With a sigh, Dan got up. "You want to get stronger, huh? That's why you weren't looking for a battle, hah! Because you'd get creamed!" A smirk slowly developed in Dan's face. "I know, let's battle! I'm pretty sure if I took things seriously, I'd beat you to the ground in a flash, but for once I'm going to be GENTLE with you, city kid!" Dan whipped out a pokéball, which released a confused looking Aipom. "Show me your moves!"

"Errr... all right." Paul wasn't sure what this guy's plan was, or why he was so friendly with a complete stranger like himself. Did it come from living in a small town like Oldale? Or was Dan simply insane? "Mudkip, you're up. Use tackle." Mudkip gave Paul an accusing glare before running off to tackle Aipom. Aipom simply jumped off out of the way, taunting Mudkip. Mudkip tried again. Aipom dodged a second time, and punched Mudkip with its tail during the rebound. It was a strong punch. Mudkip didn't get up.

"Your issue is that you and your pokémon are trying to battle head on, without any regard for the implications or consequences." Dan said, as Paul returned Mudkip. "Unexperienced wild pokémon may not be a problem with this kind of strategy. Trained ones, on the other hand, won't fall for it that easily". Aipom was helping itself to Dan's minestrone soup. The rice and beans lay forgotten. "You want to battle with strategy, Paul. A battle is not a thing of absolutes, it's a complex show that constantly changes, and you and your pokémon need to adapt to the situation at hand. Not everything is black and white."

"Right. So, I should do what? I called an attack and Mudkip tried it. Why didn't it hit?" Paul asked. He would have to revive Mudkip and heal him later when he hit the sack.

"You look at things in black and white. You expected Aipom to magically stay put while Mudkip was running towards it." Dan concluded.

Right. That made sense. He'd meditate upon those words tomorrow.

"Right now, however, I'm heading off to bed. I'll see you in the morning." Dan said, heading for his tent and itemballing the minestrone can pile.

Huh, this Dan guy sure was odd, but, then again, he seemed good natured. Paul headed for his tent, intending to revive Mudkip and rest. And digest the delicious minestrone soup. He had to get some of those capsules in Rustboro.

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**What do you think? I hope it's not too bad, hehe. :) Please, rate and review!**


	3. Of Hygiene, Nationalism, and Being Fat

Standard disclaimer:

I do not own Pokémon. Pokémon belongs to Nintendo and Game Freak. I do not profit from this fanfic in any way.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Sorry for taking so long to update. Writer's block? After reading a few more fics, I got inspired to write a bit more on this one, so yeah, hopefully I am forgiven. **

**One chapter only and already this story has 1 follower! Being new to this scene and all, I'm not sure if that's a great accomplishment or tragic (:P), but I'm still excited! Thanks a lot for following! :)**

**Anyways, this chapter will be more about describing the Pokémon world I've dreamt up, the chapter after this will be the one where we start to see a plot developing. So bear with me! **

**Geographically, I'm placing Hoenn just where it's real-world counterpart is... in Kyushu. That basically means, hot, humid weather. :P**

**I'm also inspiring myself with some other real world analogies here... the old Rustboro is inspired by Brighton, England. ;)**

**Thanks a lot for reading!**

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**Chapter 2: **Of Hygiene, Nationalism, and Being Overweight

Paul woke up late. Very late. He had overslept, forgetting to set his alarm clock from yesterday's excitement. Taillow were chirping in the distance, and the sounds of the forest were already at full force. Petalburg Woods was always a place full of life.

It was early noon. He propped himself up, surveying his tent. Sleeping pokémon, check. Assorted mess of his clothes... check. Smelly sleeping bag... *sigh*... check. He needed to get to a Pokémon Centre. Hopefully he was close to Rustboro by now. As he surveyed further, he noticed something... a letter, propped up beside his tent's door. It was propped up by not one, but two, item capsules.

Curious, concerned, and somewhat annoyed that Dan would open his tent while he was asleep, he read the letter.

_Hey, Paul,_

_Sorry mate, but you were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you up. I'm going to be on my way, there's something I need to do in Rustboro urgently. _

_It's not far away (Rustboro), only about an hour's walk north. You're almost there! And, eh... wash that sleeping bag, and consider getting a less smelly one. _

_I left you those two item capsules. I don't really need them, I won them in a contest and I've got plenty of capsules to carry all sorts of crap with. I could carry all my worldly possessions with the ones I already have._

_We might meet at the Pokémon Centre in Rustboro, if I'm still there. It was great seeing you!_

_Cheers,_

_Dan_

Paul examined his item capsules. Dawww. That Dan guy... awesome guy. He'd be sure to thank him, maybe a month's supply of minestrone would do. As he surveyed his tent again, he found his ralts, mudkip, and taillow sleeping peacefully. Maybe today was a good day. He was one hour away from Rustboro, his pokémon seemed calm, for once, and he had item capsules... woop!

Paul withdrew his sleeping pokémon into their pokéballs, and exited the tent. He pulled out one of his item capsules, with a smirk. He released the hooks that held his tent to the ground, and then 'withdrew' the tent, with his messy clothes, smelly sleeping bag, and all. What a wonder.

And so, Paul Almond set off, continuing his pokémon journey.

~º~

Paul arrived at the Rustboro Pokémon Centre, after navigating the grey, dreary streets of Rustboro for a while. The Rustboro Centre was packed, as was to be expected. What wasn't expected, however, was the, well, lack of, as Dan put it, glamour. The Centre smelled from the sheer amount of pokémon trainers, who, having forgotten all rules of courtesy and cleanliness from spending so much time in the wild, sat lazily on the couch, stinking the place up. Pokémon gambolled around, making loud noises. Other (sometimes smelly, sometimes not) trainers loudly discussed strategies for catching pokémon, battling, or techniques to defeat Roxanne.

The weather didn't help, either. Hoenn, being the region that was the furthest to the south, was always brutally hot in summer. Petalburg Woods, being shielded from the sun and at a relatively high altitude, was cool, but the sunny, beachside Rustboro was another world altogether. Trainers didn't shower often, their mobility demanded it, and, item capsules or not, Paul struggled to think of a way to carry a shower on a journey (but maybe they invented that and he was just ignorant?). Regardless of the invention of mobile showers, the place stank, and the hot, humid weather didn't help in the slightest.

He decided to call home. He had arranged all his camp belongings, clothes, and similar non-essential items into his item capsules, which meant his pack was mostly empty, beside his pokéballs, water jug, and pokégear. He needed a smaller, more comfortable backpack.

His mum popped up on the videophone's screen. "Oh, Pauuuul! Hiii! Darling, it took you so long to get to Rustboro, we were starting to get concerned! How are you?"

Typical mum.

"I'm ok. I just need to arrange a few things to send over home. I also know what I want for my birthday now... an item capsule."

A quick Google revealed item capsules were expensive. At the price of ₱1200, they were just as expensive as Ultra Balls. Ah, well, it _was_ his eighteenth.

"I'm also going to be sending my items to you, could you pick them up at the Mail Centre? The transfer number is RBPT2821". At that moment, a little machine transformed his bag into energy. The screen showed the bag moving from Rustboro to Petalburg. It was just like transferring a pokéball. So simple.

"Alright Paul, I'll head off to the Mail Centre later. And I'll talk to Dad about that 'item capsule' thing. How was the journey?" his Mum said.

"Alright. Somewhat tiring, I met this person who helped me out and told me about item capsules. They sure make a journey easier." Paul said, smirking. "I still don't get why they didn't teach this at school"

"Ah well, I still feel bad that me and dad can't give you better advice, Paul, dear. Do know we're rooting for you! And take care, that stuff in the news is worrying me a lot!"

The phone indicated that money was running out.

"Money's running out, mum. I've got to go. Bye."

The phone interrupted the signal. It wanted coins. Paul, of course, would give it none. He got off the phone booth to sit beside some smelly trainer while Nurse Joy healed his pokémon. He was running low on potions and antidotes, and he needed to stock up. Thinking about that, he was running low on money. Thank god the Pokémon Centres gave out free accommodation and food.

The television blared... something about some sort of crisis in Kanto. Silph Co, blah blah, blah blah. Economic repercussions in Hoenn, increased crime, bleh bleh. Nothing important, really.

He noticed a familiar head amongst the crowd. Huh, come to think of it, Dan stood out quite a lot. Short, with a mustard-yellow head of blonde hair, and a rather ridiculous man purse (not to mention the odd orange hoodie... in this weather... and sporty looking pants). How this guy survived in the wild was a mystery. Or maybe he was a more experienced trainer... he certainly didn't stink like the others.

"Oi! Dan!" Paul shouted, waving his arm. The smelly trainer beside him gave him an annoyed look. Huh? _At least Paul_ _didn't smell_. Wait... or did he? His sleeping bag most certainly did.

"Hey, Paul! You survived!" Dan said, laughing.

"Dan, one very simple question, before anything. Do I stink?" Paul said, somewhat concerned that he would fall victim to that which he was already growing to hate.

Dan burst out laughing. "Mate, sorry, but, yeah. You stink. Big time. You're worse than your sleeping bag!".

Paul groaned. Great. So, he was what he most hated. A stinky trainer with a big ego.

"Right. I stink. Great! How do you keep yourself clean, then?" Paul asked, dreading the answer.

"Mobile shower." Dan said, looking at him with amusement.

Paul slapped his forehead. Then he realised... Dan didn't bring out a mobile shower when they camped together. Not one that he could see, anyways. And he would've noticed if something resembling... well... anything out of the ordinary... had come out of the item capsules.

"Rustboro's Centre is notable for its smelly trainers, Paul. The reason for this is that many trainers start their journeys from either Petalburg or Oldale, after getting there by train, in order to follow the 'official Pokémon gym run'. Since they all have to cross Petalburg Woods... yeah. Smelly trainers. They all wisen up by the time they're in Slateport" Dan looked around, wrinkling his nose. "A mobile shower is also something that is normally 'trainer wisdom' only... you attach it to the inside portion of a tent, which, by the way, you need a bigger tent, mate, and, then you shower. You have to stock it with water, the shower filters it automatically, so it's really perfect for travelling".

Paul digested this information. Right... mobile showers, item capsules. Only one thing remained. "Hey, Dan. Where are you travelling next? If you're doing the Gym run, maybe we can be travelling partners? I wouldn't mind your experience." His ego hurt, but his nose (and pride) hurt even more.

"I've already done the Gym run up Mauville, haha. That said... I do happen to be looking for a travelling partner, and both Dewford and Mauville are kind of on the way, so, well, yeah. I'll be your travelling partner, city boy."

"Did you do what you had to do?" Paul asked, intrigued about Dan's little 'mission'.

"Yep. First thing in the morning, hah! And now, I have all day free! What are you going to do?"

"Well... let's get a room, for starters. I need a shower." Paul said, his head hanging down. Dan only chuckled at this, remembering his own, innocent days as a newbie.

~º~

Once he was fresh, clean, and showered, Paul felt himself revitalised with energy. He wasn't ready to tackle the gym leader, true, but he was ready as he'd ever be for his training, that was for sure. Some training, and maybe he'd head off to the beach later for some R & R. Alternatively, a nice beer at the pub would be good... he _was_ legal now, after all.

He continued walking through Rustboro's dull, tall, grey skyscrapers, as he headed for Route 116. It was a sunny, hot day, perfect for some good training (and slapping some sense and humility into that insolent mudkip, hah!). Maybe he could even make some money challenging trainers to battles.

Paul released mudkip. The pokémon materialised beside him, giving him the typical '_What disaster are we headed for now?'_ look he always reserved for his trainer.

"Alright, Kippy, we're going to train today. And kick butt. And do awesome trainer stuff." Paul said, excitedly looking at his pokémon. There was a spring in his step, and the wind was blowing behind his back. It felt almost movie like. "We've got to focus on your speed, Kippy, you're slow mate, no point denying it". Mudkip decided to thank him for the compliment with a nice death glare. "I know it offends you, but, you want to get stronger, right? Then swallow your ego and accept that I may have a point."

The mudkip just shook its head, doing some odd, blowing noise. It sounded like a sigh... a sigh that made Paul suspect Kippy clearly thought their mediocrity in battle wasn't _mudkip's_ fault. Paul snorted. Of all the pokémon he could've gotten, he had to get the mudkip with an attitude. He glanced at his mudkip, holding back a snigger as the little blue creature regally carried itself through Rustboro's outskirts. It looked (and behaved) like a prize dog. Maybe Kippy's mum had been some sort of beauty contest mudkip. Or a pokémon contest mudkip... one with a big ego.

Rustboro hadn't always been a big city. Located between the sea, the Meteor falls, and the forest (with Mt. Chimney conveniently close), it had always been an isolated, but peaceful town. The isolation attracted all sorts of people, and soon Rustboro had turned into a thriving, coastal resort town with a strong art scene and everything that came with it. Techies and geeks thrived in this sort of environment, the excess of small cafés, pubs, indie bands, and drugs guaranteed this. Some of these techies then went on to found some of the biggest companies in the world, like Devon. Rustboro's geographic position only strengthened its economic power, and soon enough, the thriving, artsy coastal town had given way to a massive, grey metropolis with towering skyscrapers, which was home to some of Hoenn's biggest companies. So Rustboro was now a centre of business. High tech business. What was a city packed with cafés, pubs, clubs, and small, underground concert halls gave way to a city packed with trains, cars, CCTVs, businesses, Starbucks, strip malls, and all the related wonders of a 'modern', 'metropolitan' city. High speed train lines were built, highways were built, and the Verdanturf tunnel provided a high speed line, highway, and trainer path to boot, all in order to connect Rustboro to Mauville.

The grey concrete started becoming more scarce and scare as Rustboro gave way to Route 116, with the roads getting thinner, the forest thicker, and the houses more spread apart. Soon, as if almost by magic, all signs of civilisation were gone, and a small but proud blue sign, with 'Route 116' printed in block letters, announced he had reached his target. Kippy, his head held high, crossed the boundaries between Rustboro and Route 116. Tough stuff, that mudkip. Paul sighed, and followed.

You needed to be 18 to become a Pokémon Trainer, yes, everyone knew that. There wasn't an official age barrier to _owning_ pokémon. _Sure_, that meant you couldn't compete in gym battles or contests, it meant your Pokédex wasn't given to you for free by the Pokémon league (fork up the cash, sonny Jim!), and it also meant you had to get a pokémon _somewhere_. Either from some lucky catch, from an awesome mum/dad who caught/bought it for you, from the pet shop (of course), or, if the kid's parents were rich enough, from breeders.

Rustboro being a proud centre of technology, money, and civilisation, of course, meant there was a lot of busy daddies and bored kids. There was also a lot of rich daddies (which meant rich, spoiled, bratty kids), and subsequently, lots of underage 'trainers'. Route 116 was therefore infested with underage trainers, and, better yet, it was infested with rich, underage trainers. The inevitable result of this unholy union of money, youth, and pokémon was a goldmine of cash readily available for real trainers starting out on their journey (and looking to get some good training for Roxanne, too). So Paul was feeling optimistic about Route 116. The books, after all, said it was like the El Dorado of trainerdom.

So, after his third defeat in a row, Paul began to wonder if Kippy was right, and he was just a bad trainer. What that bloody book had failed to mention was the trainer school in Rustboro, and many of these kids came from it. They had _book smarts_, and far more experience than he. He banged his head in frustration (and the hurt of losing his _last_ ₱200). Then, Paul spotted a bug-catcher, and his face morphed into a smirk.

"Oi, kid? I challenge you." Paul said, grinning from ear to ear. Just wait till the kid saw his Taillow.

The kid stopped waving around his weird bug net, and eyed Paul wearily, before grinning himself. "Alright, newbie, I accept the challenge!". The kid rearranged his straw hat, grinning all the while. It disconcerted Paul, this kid was 10...11 at most, and yet he was staring _him_ down, an 18 year old 'adult'.

As per Pokémon League rules, they tossed their chosen pokéballs at the same time. The balls spun through the air.

"Nincada, let's go, buddy!" the bug-kid shouted.

"C'mon Tails, time to work!" Paul shouted, somewhat concerned at the kid's cockiness.

The pokéballs stopped abruptly in midair, and opened. The beams of light that emerged elegantly flowed to the ground, and the nincada and taillow materialised from the light. Taillow cawed triumphantly, staring down its new prey with a glare that would've had any wurmple running for dear, sweet life. The nincada was unfazed, and it stared down Tails with a glare of its own.

"You get the first move, newbie. Let's see what you can do." the kid said, smirking.

"Tails, peck that icky bug to the ground, as fast as you can!" Paul cried, throwing caution to the winds. The taillow jumped the distance between it and the nincada with one mighty flap of its wings, and readied itself to peck the nincada. As if on queue, the nincada jumped out of the way, and it also left a nice scratch for Tails to remember it with.

Tails cawed in pain. Paul groaned. Not again, this would be humiliating. He saw the nincada prepare itself for a second attack.

"Watch out Tails, behind you! Get to the air and dive-bomb peck the bloody thing!"

_Dive-bomb peck?_ Where on earth had he though of _that_ one?

Tails dove high, and then dived. It gathered some frightening speed... it almost seemed like the nincada was too slow! Only... it wasn't, moving out of the way at the last second, leaving a bewildered (and scared) Tails to crash, _hard_, onto the ground, with a sickening crunch. The taillow had fainted, cawing in pain and confusion. Paul returned it unceremoniously... he'd apologise later for his idiocy.

Only one pokémon remained. His female, somewhat weak ralts, Stream. He'd given her the name Stream from the way she had happily played in some little creek inside Petalburg Woods. He didn't use her much, mainly because she had barely learnt confusion, and also because a psychic bond was starting to develop (it was rather faint), and when Stream hurt, he'd feel her pain, too. So when Stream battled, not only would his ego hurt in the case of a loss, but he'd hurt emotionally. Jackpot.

It didn't really help that bugs were strong against psychic pokémon. That was another story, however. He needed to win this... he had no cash left. It was a kind of 'hafta win this' scenario.

Resigned, Paul pulled out Stream's pokéball, enlarging it to throwing size as he thought of some sort of strategy. He threw the pokéball, hoping for the favour of the gods or whatever would ensure his victory.

"Stream, let's go!" Paul cried, almost resigned to defeat. The pokéball stopped about a metre from the ground, and light flowed out. Paul had to admit, he always liked how pokéballs released pokémon, with beautiful streams of light flowing to the ground, which then assembled into the shape of the pokémon, before exploding like fireworks, revealing, you guessed right, the pokémon.

Stream emerged from the light show, as any ralts would, looking almost confused as it examined its opponent.

"Okay, Stream, I have only one piece of advice. Move if you have to, otherwise, use your psionics to keep that bug from touching you. Now, let's go! Confusion!"

The nincada flew around the air.

"Slam it into the tree! As hard as you possibly can!" Paul cried, feeling somewhat like a caveman shaking a bone in victory over some dead deer.

The nincada smashed, _hard_, against a tree. It slithered to the ground, and shakily got up, hissing.

"Nincada, let's recover some energy! Leech seed!" the kid cried, his eyes narrowed at Paul. The nincada spit out a bunch of seeds and then proceeded to throw them at Stream, a bit like a tennis serve.

"Grab the seeds, Stream! Throw them back!" Paul shouted. For whatever reason, this failed (perhaps the seeds were too small?), and the seeds attached to Stream, and sprouted. The ralts hissed in pain, as her energy was slowly sapped, and the nincada revitalised.

"Follow it up with scratch, nincada! Let's finish this!" the kid shouted, almost gloatingly. The nincada began brutally scratching the poor ralts, who screamed in pain.

"Fuck... Stream... lift it off the ground, quick! Focus, now!" Paul screamed, frustrated.

Sobbing, the ralts lifted the nincada high into the air. Then Stream took her revenge and slammed the nincada into the ground... the strength of the telekinetic attack plus gravity quickly knocked back the nincada.

The kid was shocked. The nincada, being a bug, had just been put through the psionic equivalent of a fly-swatter. "Good battle, newb. Here's your money, I'm heading to the Centre", he said, as he returned his nincada. He quickly shook hands with Paul, giving him some cash, and broke into a run for the Pokémon Centre.

Paul examined his loot. ₱1200. Not bad, not bad at all.

A moan from his ralts brought him crashing down back to earth. _Fuck_. Stream was badly, badly hurt. The type disadvantage had taken its toll... the ralts was scratched all over. Some of the wounds were bleeding. The leech seed sprouts were painfully embedded into Stream's white skin. Paul felt her pain through his bond. He felt like absolute shit for making the pokémon go through that.

Well, _fuck_.

"C'mon, Stream, let's get you to a Pokémon Centre. I'm so, so sorry I let you get hurt like that." Paul said croakily, feeling close to tears.

"That Ralts is hurt pretty bad, you know?" a female voice said, disapprovingly.

Paul turned around, preparing to give whoever dared interrupt a piece of his mind. The last thing he needed was some girl mothering him and his pokémon. He felt bad enough without someone rubbing it in.

The girl was rummaging in her bag for something. She was quite petite, with well defined curves (although somewhat lacking in the chest department), blue hair, and white skin. She looked a bit like some forest elf that helped injured ralts or something. She was wearing a cyan shirt, white zipper-hoodie, and jeans.

The girl found what she was looking for: a potion. She looked up, she had emerald eyes, and threw the potion at Paul. Paul's anger was still there, but maybe the piece-of-mind-giving could wait.

Paul crouched down and sprayed the potion into Stream. The ralts seemed greatly relieved, although it still looked injured. A trip to the Pokémon Centre was still necessary.

The blunette crouched beside the ralts. "It's cute," she declared. "Don't let it get that hurt again."

"I won't," Paul said, almost grudgingly. He owed this girl now. "Thanks a lot for the help. I'm Paul."

"Susan" said the girl, still looking at Paul disapprovingly. "You're from Hoenn, and you're a new trainer."

That wasn't a question. Paul simply nodded, his anger rising again.

"Well, take care of your pokémon. They've got feelings too." Susan said, disapproval still etched into every corner of her face.

Paul snapped. "What do you know, oh expert trainer Susan? Where are you from anyways, that gives you the right to go around scolding people?"

"I'm from Sinnoh. I've come to Hoenn to compete in contests here, and I was just coming from Verdanturf after one. They say the next one is in Dewford, and I need to catch a boat to get there, so I'd thought I'd go into tourist mode and visit Rustboro. They say it's intereting." Susan said. "I presume you're here training for the Rustboro gym?"

"Yes." Paul admitted, grudgingly. "Rustboro isn't interesting, in any case, it's just miles and miles of concrete, Starbucks, and shopping centres. And guys in suits." The way Paul said it, it was almost like being a guy in a suit was a capital crime.

"Huh, well, there'll be interesting shopping, in the least. _Don't you have to get someone somewhere, though?_" Susan said, all anger returning.

"Right. Well, I'll see you at the Centre, then."

With that, Paul returned Stream, and broke into a run, straight back for Rustboro and the CCTVs.

~º~

At the Pokémon Centre, a weird, blonde guy with an orange hoodie and a man purse was having an avid debate with another startled guy who went by the name of Paul.

Stream, Tails, and Kippy were currently being taken care of by Nurse Joy, and it was lunchtime anyways, so Paul had resigned to listening to Dan's crazy rants.

"So...," Dan started, mouth full of minestrone soup, "In the end, Hoenn has a stronger side than Sinnoh mate, hands down. Kanto might not be as much of a pushover, with Ketchum as strong as he is, but I still think we've got a good, strong side, analysing all the..."

Paul wasn't really listening. He was, instead, thinking of how to best train Kippy, Tails, and Stream for their next battles, how to avoid getting Stream hurt, and wondering if that Susan girl had made it to the Pokémon Centre yet. Anger and humiliation gone, he was regretting not thanking her for the potion.

"Now, on the football side of things...," Dan rambled on, blissfully unaware that he had lost Paul a long while ago, "I think we might be able to get revenge against Unova, after all, we owe them a thrashing..."

Paul sometimes wished his life was easier. That mudkip still didn't respect him, never mind trust him, he had failed Tails as a trainer, big time, and he had abused Stream's trust.

"Hey, mate, you know what? I kind of need to hit the sack for a while, is it all right if I head off?" Paul asked, realising that he needed some time alone.

"Yeah, sure, no worries man" Dan replied, disappointed that his little speech was being interrupted.

Paul headed for his room. The Rustboro Pokémon Centre was unique in that individual rooms for each trainer were long, long gone, and these days, large rooms with bunk beds was what was available. It meant three things: the smelly trainers ruined your night, the people that snore made it impossible to sleep, and of course, the imbeciles who always returned late from the pub/nightclub, drunk, obnoxiously turning the light on, being loud and laughing loud.

The reason for this was that most new trainers came to Rustboro first, so, of course, it was packed with people. Many would bail out by Dewford, either from being unable to beat Roxanne, the pub/nightclub lifestyle suiting them better, or related situations. So, apparently, by Slateport, the Centres were less packed, and therefore, individual and group rooms existed aplenty.

So many experienced trainers preferred to camp out in Rustboro. But Paul was low on money, so he'd taken the room. Not that he knew it was like _this_, anyways.

A clever system was put in place by the Pokémon League to prevent abuse of the free Centres, which were intended for Pokémon trainers and coordinators only. A pokémon trainer was categorised into two categories... as active, and non-active, depending on their geographical position, trainer battles they got into, etc. A central computer automatically 'inactivated' trainers whose activity died down, such trainers then had to reactivate their licenses if they got back into training.

Trainers, when getting into a battle with each other, would tap their pokédexes together, and press a special button on the screen. The NFC chip in the pokédex would then indicate to the League that a battle was about to take place. This was to avoid fraud after a battle. As for the 'can't refuse a challenge' rule, well, set loose a pokémon on someone and chances are they'll rather whip out a pokéball to defend themselves rather than try and outrun a pokémon. Besides, no trainer refuses to battle. It's part of the unwritten code of honour.

The room Paul had was a typical hostel room at the Rustboro Pokémon Centre... with a bunk bed that was sort of attached to the wall, with 4 columns of beds and three 'floors' of columns, thereby giving a grand total of 12 beds in one smelly, cramped room.

The fine, distinct odour of armpit permeated the room. The beds were mostly messy, with an assortment of laptops and electronics scattered in some of them by some of the more naïve trainers. The floor was littered with backpacks and luggage (Paul wondered if the luggage guys used trains, cars, or item capsules). Towels, and other related grooming equipment adorned the bunk bed staircases.

Paul climbed into his bed at the bottom and lay facing upwards, fully awake. He wasn't really tired, and he didn't expect sleep to come join him, so he contented himself with musing about life, his journey, and his pokémon.

His education, and his books had taught him that the partnership between and pokémon and humans was almost instinctual for the pokémon. It was a contract of convenience at first: the pokémon provided the power, the human provided the strategy, and intelligence. Together, they managed to survive, and grow stronger. The pokémon trusted the trainer, the trainer the pokémon.

That was the real question, however. Had the abused the trust of his pokémon? Was the pain his friends were going through worth it? He didn't put his health and life on the line for some stupid battle, his pokémon did. Could he keep demanding such a thing from them?

At that moment, the door banged against the wall, and a familiar blue haired girl stumbled into the room, carrying at least a dozen shopping bags.

"Hey, you missed me already?" Paul joked. "I see you took the shopping idea to heart."

Susan didn't reply, instead, she wrinkled her nose and gave the room a few good sniffs. She sighed. "I'm guessing you're not smelling that, right?"

Paul burst out laughing. "Oh, I do." he said. "I do smell that, it's a wonderful smell isn't it? But feel free to smell me, and I can guarantee you I'm one of the few who aren't donating to the cause."

Susan smiled, pulling out an item capsule, which whisked away her day's shopping in an instant. "Is Ralts any better?" she said, a small frown on her face.

"Yeah, Stream's with Nurse Joy, she's just resting now and being pampered and stuff. She deserves it." Paul said, while punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

"Stream? What made you think of that silly name?" Susan said, giggling.

"She likes to splash around and play on creeks and flowing bodies of water. But for whatever reason lakes intimidate her. So, yeah, Stream." Paul said, smirking. His smirk turned into a frown as he remembered Stream immediately after her little pokémon battle. "Look," he said, "I really wanted to thank you for that potion you gave me. It saved from a ton of worrying. So, yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Susan said, with a wave of her hand. "Unless you want me to start remembering what the potion _cost_... do you want to owe me ₱200?"

Paul stayed quiet. He couldn't really afford the potion when he needed to buy supplies for when he left Rustboro. The boat ride might be expensive, and he needed money to tough it out in the wild at Dewford with Dan to train for Brawly.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Paul said, looking up.

"Shoot."

"I was just wondering... is it right to put my pokémon through such suffering? They're the ones who put their lives on the line for me, and, well, after seeing Stream hurt today..." Paul said, his voice small.

"It's not right to have hurt Stream like you did. But you shouldn't feel too bad about it, both Stream and you are inexperienced, and Stream is young, too. They get seriously hurt easily." Susan said, her expression softening. Susan seemed like the kind of person who had been through a lot of things, and had managed (or was in the process of) improving her life and defeating personal issues. She was one of those persons who gave an aura of experience. "What you should do, is train with wild pokémon, so you can get stronger. You, Stream, and your other pokémon. Those Route 116 trainers ARE pushovers, but they're also a bit of a newbie trap. How do you think they like to keep training there? They win as much as they lose."

Paul had a brainwave. He would be eventually heading to Dewford. She would be heading to Dewford. And he needed someone to act as a counterweight to Dan, anyways.

"When are you heading to Dewford?" he asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow, probably. Rustboro was for shopping. Tomorrow, I hit the contest road." she replied, smiling.

"Hey, would you like to be our travelling partner? Me and this guy called Dan are just in Rustboro until I defeat Roxanne, and then we're heading to Dewford. We'd be heading the same way, and I'd appreciate your advice."

Susan thought. She was looking for a travelling partner at some point, after all, the journey from Mauville (where she arrived by plane from Jubilife) to Rustboro had been lonely. On the other hand, she didn't want to wait for this guy to beat Roxanne. And yet, she wanted to see that newbie take good care of his pokémon, and there was the added benefit of maybe borrowing that ralts for the contest.

"On one condition. If you don't beat Roxanne by Friday, we're leaving for Dewford, whether you like it or not." Susan finally said.

It was Wednesday today. Paul nodded, signifying that he agreed with their little deal.

Susan simply tossed him a scrawled note, heading for the door. She could use some extra money, she decided, and those Route 116 trainers did look _weak_.

"My phone number." she said simply. "You can introduce me to your friend later."

With that, she left the room, leaving Paul to wonder if this had been a good idea after all.

~º~

Paul lay awake, his eyes focused on the top of his bunk bed. _Bloody hell, who was that bloke? _

A few minutes prior, some guy had entered the room (quite respectfully and silently, true), and fell asleep almost as soon as he laid down onto his bed. He snored. Like, _snored_. His snore was a constant, frequent, quick rumble that increased and decreased in pitch as his breathing peaked. It sounded a bit like a revving motor car. Right beside Paul's bunk.

It didn't help that other people in the room all had their own, unique snoring patterns. Paul had tried to put some _Amon Tobin_ in his phone, attempting to drown out the noise. It hadn't helped.

Paul had trained extensively around the outskirts of Petalburg Woods. Battling wild things, he also decided to pit Kippy and Tails against each other, while Stream battled wild Whismur close by. The sterile, safe training still did wonders for their speed and stamina, and soon, the three pokémon could move faster, dodge quicker, and attack more accurately. He had his battle plan ready. Wednesday... get his pokémon into Route-116-kid-cream-mode. Thursday... cream the Route 116 kids. Get their money. Friday, the grand finale against Roxanne, where Kippy would demonstrate his immense skills and they'd celebrate with ice cream and everything would be perfect and awesome.

_Snore_. Paul's daydreaming (which was slowly turning into real dreaming) was interrupted, his patience running thin. He felt about ready to punch something. Kippy's water gun was getting stronger.

Paul was drifting to sleep (again), just as some giggling, drunk girls arrived, turning on the light while calling the guys of whatever place they went to 'wankers'.

_Fuck_.

~º~

|_To: Susan, Dan _

|_Guys, meet me at the Rustboro gym in 30. I'm going for it._

|_-Paul_

After a successful, rested Thursday (kids go to school in the mornings and he needed the rest anyways), Paul had thrashed most every Route 116 kid, getting close to the Rustboro-Verdanturf tunnel, where Kippy proceeded to cream the life out of whatever hiker or schoolboy's pokémon dared challenge him. He alternated between letting his pokémon out to walk with him (the element of surprise had to be kept, so he couldn't have them all out), noticing the tremendous change in their attitude as he got to know them, and them, him.

He always carried his belongings around with him (after some wise advice from Susan who told him item capsules, along with their contained items, were frequently stolen, no matter now much security he placed behind them), so he'd decided that he'd pummel Roxanne to the ground with Kippy (and perhaps some aid from Stream should Kippy find himself in trouble), and then catch the next train to Petalburg, where they could find a ferry that would whisk them to Dewford overnight.

After a 30 minute journey through Rustboro Metro, Paul was walking confidently, the gym being just a few blocks away. No amount of CCTVs, posh businessmen, or chatty girls on their mobiles could ruin Paul's good mood. He had earned a decent enough amount of loot from the Route 116 kids, enough to weather his journey all the way to Slateport, never mind whatever he got from the gym leaders. Things were looking up!

He spotted Dan in the distance, heading for the gym too. Crazy guy, he probably was scared of cities of something: as he stood at an intersection, he looked carefully to his right, then his left, then his right again, then his left, and then crossed the road as quickly as he could, glancing both ways as he did it.

Paul chuckled, speeding up to catch with him. "Oi, DAN!"

Dan turned around, spotting Paul. He seemed a bit embarrassed.

"You're afraid the cars will eat you or something, I'm guessing?" Paul taunted.

"We'll see if you're still so cocky once Roxanne murders your entire team" said Dan, smirking.

Paul just sped up, leaving Dan behind (who tried to keep up with a feeble _'Oi, wait up!'_), entered the gym, sneaked around the silly kids who were trolling there for some challenge money, and spotted Roxanne.

"I challenge you!", he cried, behaving a bit like a pompous, chivalrous, 13th century knight.

Roxanne looked up from her book, clearly irritated at the interruption. "Let's get this over, then", she said, tossing a pokéball that revealed a geodude. She then went back to reading.

"Heeey! Aren't you even going to watch the battle?" Paul cried, more hurt than offended.

No response. Huh.

A disconcerted Paul then threw Kippy's pokéball into the air. "C'mon, Kippy!", he called, somewhat half-heartedly. All his confidence from before had evaporated.

Kippy emerged from his pokéball, with a triumphant '_Kip!'_, while the geodude stared at it with an expression that clearly indicated its disdain. Paul didn't mind, though. That geodude would have its ego turned down a few notches after a nice water gun to the face.

Susan was sitting in the sidelines. She waved at him, clearly amused. He waved back.

"Ok, Kippy, use water gun!" Paul cried, all confidence (and pompousness) returning. Susan thought he looked a bit like a movie star. Only, of course, without the good looks, smoking hot bod, or suave dialogue. He did have the drama bit nailed down, she mused.

The geodude simply dodged, fast as a bullet, and charged at Kippy. Kippy tried to hit it with a barrage of water guns (as per Paul's pre-match strategy), to no avail. As the geodude reduced the distance between itself and the mudkip, Kippy did the only reasonable thing it could do. It dodged, and then dodged again, as the battle gradually unravelled into that geodude chasing Kippy around through the field, Kippy running for dear life.

Paul couldn't believe it. He could switch pokémon, though, and thought of a strategy. The geodude was fast, huh? Fine with him.

"Kippy, return!" he sighed, as the beam of red light engulfed the running water pokémon, whisking him away.

"Tails, let's go!" Paul cried. Time for the pre-match talk. He huddled close to the taillow. "It's fast, and your flying attacks won't do much. So just use its speed _against it_. You know... let inertia do the work" Paul said, winking.

Tails understood. It bravely flapped onto the rock field. The geodude pounced, and Tails took to the air, flying at a high speed close to the ground, the geodude close behind him. It knew geodude lost more motor control the higher they got from the ground, and so it kept baiting it as he flew faster, and faster, the geodude close behind, slowly closing the gap between them.

Just as it seemed the geodude would catch Tails, Tails did a sharp turn upwards. The geodude followed, knowing full well that taillow was cornered. And then the taillow dived. Geodude realised he was trapped just a moment too late, as he continued hurling upwards, all motor control gone, while the taillow dived and slowed down. There was a thick, stone wall ahead. _Oh, shit_.

A loud, sickening crunch followed, and the pokémon fell to the ground. It had either given up or fainted, but it certainly wasn't moving.

Roxanne had looked up on that crunching sound, expecting some wild geodude-creaming-mudkip or whatever action. What met her eyes instead was a geodude-shaped dent in her wall, and a throughly dazed and confused geodude on her floor.

_A taillow did that?_

This had caught her attention. "Good job." she simply said, while returning geodude. She whipped out another pokéball, and unceremoniously let out a nosepass.

Paul returned Tails. Nosepass were _slow_. "Kippy, come on out!" he said, throwing Kippy's ball like a boomerang.

"Rock Throw!" Roxanne said suddenly.

Kippy had barely recovered from the post-pokéball daze, when a Rock Throw met it. _Well, what the hell?_ A few moments before the action, please? Paul growled. "Kippy, just water gun that slow twat until it faints!". Roxanne raised her eyebrow. A slow twat, huh?

Kippy complied, soaking the nosepass, which howled in agony... or was it anger?

The nosepass took a step forward. Yup! It was anger. Then another. Then another, slowly closing the gap between itself and Kippy, all while Kippy looked progressively more afraid as that big, bad thing approached, that big, bad, _rock-type_ thing that seemed to find his water gun more annoying than painful. Kippy looked positively terrified when the nosepass stood, proudly, in front of it, face full of water-gun and all. The water gun died out... Kippy couldn't keep it up? Or had he simply surrendered under such treacherous odds?

_Smack! _

Yup. Just like that, Kippy was fainted. Brilliant.

He heard a loud snigger, and wasn't surprised to see Dan laughing at his disgrace, while Susan looked torn between the desire to laugh and the desire to keep supporting Paul. He'd deal with them later.

"Stream, let's go! Use confusion on nosepass, quick!", Paul shouted. Stream emerged from her pokéball, looking like some heroine from an anime film as she proudly landed on the field. She then focused her energy, and shot a confusion at nosepass, and... nothing happened.

Stream turned back at Paul, shrugging. Actually shrugging. _Someone please kill me._ Susan's willpower was shattered as she burst into laughter too.

And then, out of nowhere, the nosepass fainted.

It hadn't been the confusion attack, that much was obvious, so he simply suspected Kippy's water gun had left Roxanne's pokémon more injured than it actually let on. It's not like the silent, fat rock had much of a face or vocal chords to express some sort of concrete emotion.

Roxanne just stood there, dumbfounded. Then she walked over to Paul, shoved a TM, a badge, and some money into his hand, and said "Congrats." as she headed back for her book.

"Um... thanks?" Paul weakly replied.

No answer. Right. This was most definitely not what he expected when Dan had mentioned glamour.

~º~

As Susan, Dan, and Paul waited for their next train into Petalburg, having just checked out from the Pokémon Centre, Susan and Dan teasing him to no end about the battle ("You still looked like an idiot there mate, even if you won, sorry"), and with Susan fretting over the state of his clothes ("Seriously, Paul, in Petalburg, we're taking an hour off to go _shopping_."), Paul couldn't help but think that it was most definitely not what he had signed up for, but then again, this 'pokémon journey' of his wasn't half bad, either.

If you discounted his arrogant mudkip, snoring roommates, or giggling, drunk, 3AM girls. But he could live with that.

**What do you think? Please leave a review!**


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